


Please let me sleep through the end of the world/if seasons change why can’t i?

by Acoustic_Century



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But its intentional, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, the writing style is terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25353517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acoustic_Century/pseuds/Acoustic_Century
Summary: The sunrise was beautiful, they all were in the zones.Maybe it was just the way he was watching with decaying eyes.Searching for one reason, not to pull the trigger.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul & Kobra Kid (Danger Days)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Please let me sleep through the end of the world/if seasons change why can’t i?

**Author's Note:**

> figured it was time to contribute to the fandom
> 
> i based this off my own experience but i might have got somethings wrong... sorry

He stood there, on the edge of the roof, he knew why he was there, it was simple.

When you live in the zones, its loud and crazy like the desert heat,

but eventually night falls into a winter like chill and the noise dissipates to an uneasy silence one like he had never known before.

All the screams of the day faded off into the forgotten whispers of the autumn wind.

He left the city because he needed to feel something (anything)

But as some point he must have realised the problem wasn’t with the city,

it was him.

Back in the city, it was normal, but here in the desert everyone felt so much,

he could practically feel the intensity of the anger that flared off his sibling, his friends.

it was like drowning in colour, it shouldn’t be possible, yet he still found himself choking on the stray pigment.

There wasn’t a way to fix him, he’d never tried but he never needed to, the more he thought about it the more he realized that there was no way out, any chance of survival was hopeless.

There were other hopeless things in this world though,

It was a suicide mission escaping the city.

It was impossible for them to fight hordes of dracs, and live through their countless injuries.

But here they were

Here he was.

Staring at the stars.

Gun to his head.

Waiting for something (waiting for anything) to tell him not to.

Tears streaming down his face.

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them one last time.

One look at the sky again, his one constant.

It was all so perfect.

The one place he couldn’t ruin.

No matter what he did everything above the atmosphere, hell, everything beyond zone three would stay unchanging like the leaves of a winter tree.

But even that withers and dies.

Nothing seems to be permanent, well except the cotton filling him with nothing, stealing his emotions,

Stealing _him_.

The world was slipping though his fingers, the sand that fell though until it was just a rough forgotten memory lingering on calloused skin.

That’s when he saw it,

He must have been standing… sitting up there for longer than he thought.

The sun peaking over the horizon, bringing with it the beginnings of a summer nightmare.

Another day of pretending to care,

Of pretending to feel,

Pretending that his world wasn’t just the shattered pieces that everyone seemed to know how to fix.

Except him

He was supposed to know how to be real,

How to exist properly

He only knew how to exit properly.

Maybe everyone felt like this,

And he was just weak.

He felt weak.

Fragile skin holding the crushing skeleton of someone who never truly existed.

The sunrise was beautiful, they all were in the zones.

Maybe it was just the way he was watching with decaying eyes.

Searching for one reason not to pull the trigger.

But more likely searching for one spark of the emotion he’d been deprived of for so long, the idea of feeling something (anything) was unfamiliar and scary.

“Dude, ya been here all nig-,”

Ghouls enthusiastic voice, the same one that would often fill rooms with juvenile jokes and rambunctious laughter, silenced.

“Kid, please, put down the gun,”

He couldn’t see their face, but he didn’t need to, anxiety and concern tainted their words, leaving echoes in his brain that could never really sunk in.

This was something,

(This was his anything)

Carefully Ghoul rested an arm over his shoulders holding him close.

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut his arm dropped, gun falling from his hand.

He tried to stop the crying, withholding as many sobs as he could, as Ghoul just hugged him.

Distantly he heard the sound of the gun hitting the ground down below, a soft thump on shifting sands.

That soft thump bringing his spring beginnings.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for all the contradictions and words never spoken... 
> 
> have day =)


End file.
